Murmurations…
a collection of poems

Murmurations is my first published collection of my own poetry and more is in the pipeline. This collection stretches back over many decades, going back to my early writing years, and gathers pace particularly during the lockdown years of 2020 to 2022. It explores a wide range of topics relevant to both young and old, and in a variety of styles – as is, perhaps, best illustrated by the poems I have included on this page.

While I have sought to maintain an element of overall balance, there is no avoiding the effects or the experience of ageing, or the marked changes that have occurred in our social and political landscape over the years since I started writing. None the less, I attempt, where possible, to hang on to my sense of humour, even  with even a touch of plain silliness along the way.

 

Now published and available on Amazon and the Book Depository, or may be ordered from your bookshop.


Funny Boo Hoo
Vic Blake

Funny, life just goes awry sometimes,
Like it’s all been too easy by far,
Till the problems crowd round
Like wolves at your door,
And I don’t mean, ‘funny ha ha’!

Funny, life seems to roll on like a dream,
As if somehow it’s all meant to fool you,
Till it all goes wrong and crumbles to dust,
And I don’t mean ‘funny peculiar’!

Funny, I was once so complacent.
There was nothing I couldn’t do,
Then one day my whole world turned upside down,
Funny that; ‘Funny boo, hoo’!

 

Easy Peasy
Vic Blake

Easy Peasy,
Japanezy,
lemon squeezy,
bread and cheesy,
birds and beesy,
cough and sneezy,
hands and kneesy,
dogs and fleasy,
apple treesy,
it’s so easy,
just continue
as you pleasey.

 

On Growing Old
Vic Blake

Growing old is not so bad –
Not so good, mind –
But not so bad.
And consider this, should you find you hunger
For good times past and for those you’ve lost,
This only means that you didn’t die younger,
Old age being the inevitable cost.

Growing old can be quite fun –
Hardly hilarious, mind –
But, still, quite fun.
And while our bodies may cease to flatter,
Such things we take less seriously,
Our sense of proportion being more what matters,
Our love, our experience, our empathy.

Grandchildren can be best of all –
Not all the time, mind –
But, still, best of all.
They’ll have us in stitches or reduce us to tears,
And pay little heed to the things that we teach,
While shoving Weetabix in their ears
And any orifice within easy reach.

Growing old’s not really so bad –
It can be, mind –
But it’s mostly not bad.
Sure, I grow daily more dotty, it seems,
While my hip and my knees and my back give me gip,
And I struggle with memories now, rather than dreams,
But I still have my humour –
Did I mention my hip?

 

Shit Happens
Vic Blake

Shit happens,
Nose hair grows,
The sun comes up then down she goes,
That’s just the way the story goes
And no use in complaining.
We’re young too early, wise too late,
Hair deserts the balding pate
But grows like weeds on your best mate,
It’s always bloody raining.

But shit happens, life’s a hill.
Roll the boulder all you will,
It keeps on rolling back until
It does your bloody brain in.
Bread and jam falls jam-side-down,
Things forgotten come back round,
Wipe away that gloomy frown.
Don’t give yourself a caning.

‘Cos shit happens, there it is!
No use getting in a tizz
If love seems to have lost its fizz
And your pretty moon is waning.
Hamsters die, lovers leave us,
Heroes fail and friends deceive us.
Life, at times, can be quite grievous,
And often very draining!

But shit happens, end of story!
So it’s not all hunky dory.
So your children voted tory,
Sucks to all your training!
In the end you did your best,
Worked your socks off like the rest,
Never mind that life’s a mess
And all that weight you’re gaining.

Cos shit happens, welcome friend.
Stop pining for that rainbow’s end;
It’s right there in your heart.
The end.